


Only Bologna

by Azillawn



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, does this count as a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azillawn/pseuds/Azillawn
Summary: “Do we got anythin’ to eat, Johnny? I’m, like...starving,” The younger exaggerated. He wasn’t starving, so to say, yet hungry in a sense.





	Only Bologna

Although he hated to admit it, the church on the top of Jay Mountain wasn’t all too bad.

Of course, Ponyboy Curtis wished for nothing but to return to his home, yet he couldn’t say he despised being where he and Johnny had settled. The place was dirty and unkept, and he was beginning to look the exact same way, yet he couldn’t complain. It was much better than being kept at the police station, or perhaps getting scolded by his oldest brother at home. It was much better than his side of town and the opposing, although the differences between them was what had gotten him and the older where they were in the first place. The now-blonde haired boy would attempt to push these thoughts aside by occupying himself with other activities, such as reading, taking drags of cigarettes, playing cards with Johnny - and even cleaning - yet none of them worked much. He could barely even remember the last sentence in which was read to Johnny in ‘Gone With The Wind’ anymore. He reread the sentence over to the black haired teen who sat behind him on a step, which earned a low grunt of surprise in response. With hesitation, the younger greaser uncrossed his legs and leaned his head back against the rough ground to eye up Johnny. Gray-green hues met with dark brown momentarily, until the discomfort set in, and both greasers turned their attention elsewhere.

“...You read the same sentence twice,” Johnny murmured, his head lowering slightly to watch as he twirled his cigarette around between his index and middle finger.

“Shoot, I know. M’sorry,” Ponyboy grumbled. His nimble fingers reached up to the top of the page he had stopped at, his pointer reaching behind to doggy-ear the paper as a reminder as to where he left off. As dirty nails gently scraped against the blue paperback cover, the young greaser set the book aside. He was sure it wouldn’t be the last time he touched the book that day, yet a break was essential. He relished in the idea of the continuation to the book, and even if Johnny didn’t care for it as much, he’d read it aloud either way. The older boy would listen, occasionally adding in his own commentary and thoughts, and that was all Ponyboy needed. It was a good book, really.

With hesitation, Ponyboy raised a hand, his fingers beginning to slow run through ungreased strands of blonde hair. However, as he leaned his head back against the step, his fingers gently grazed against the rubble of the old church instead. His green hues flickered towards Johnny once more, with emotions behind the gently mixed colors that were unidentifiable. He watched the tiny movements Johnny would make, such as pushing his cigarette to the side of his mouth with a quick swipe of his tongue, or occasionally pulling the cigarette out of his mouth to huff out puffs of light smoke. The older attempted to puff out rings, yet to no avail. The wisps slipped passed his dark lips sloppily, causing a low chuckle of amusement to rumble in Ponyboy’s throat. Johnny’s gaze turned to his own once more. With irritation evident in the dark hues of his eyes, Ponyboy cleared his throat and glanced away as an unspoken apology.

It was quiet afterwards. The only sounds that broke any sort of uncomfortable silence was the gentle chirping of birds outside of the hideout. Neither of the greasers paid much mind to the other noises, however. Johnny continued to occupy himself in the silence with his attempts of creating smoke rings.

Ponyboy was left with his own thoughts, something he had hoped would not happen, yet it seemed quite inevitable.

‘How long have we been here?’

‘It smells like smoke. Quit puffin’ in my face, Johnny.’

‘I miss home.’

‘Why is my hair blonde - oh, right.’

‘Did I eat today?’

Ponyboy reluctantly lifted his head up from the debris, a couple of pieces clinging to the soft locks of blonde hair. He would then turn to face Johnny, his hands pressing down on the dirty floor as leverage to move. Having not done so for more than an hour or so, it grew rather uncomfortable and hurt his limbs. With a quick swipe of his tongue and the capture of his lips between his teeth, Ponyboy opened his mouth to speak, his nose wrinkling slightly as he did so. “Do we got anythin’ to eat, Johnny? I’m, like...starving,” The younger exaggerated. He wasn’t starving, so to say, yet hungry in a sense.

The black haired teen flinched at this, his lazy and uncaring gaze slowly shifting to look down towards the younger beside him. As though he were fighting against the thought of releasing it, Johnny reluctantly slid the coffin nail from his mouth, his thin fingers dropping it to the ground before he stomped it into the debris with the bottom of his dirt-covered sneaker. “You still eat bologna?” Johnny murmured, his head turning to face the younger greaser. Strands of untouched black hair fell in front of his tan face in the usual few curls that covered his forehead.

No matter how enticing the strands looked, the way Johnny’s hair fell was of no concern to Ponyboy. He grumbled in response, his brows furrowed in both confusion and disgust. “W-what?” The younger stammered.

“Do you eat bologna?” Johnny repeated.

“Not…” Ponyboy began, his green gaze glancing away repeatedly as if he were uncomfortable, and truthfully, a part of him was. Only then did he remember that bread and bologna was the only food he and Johnny had at the church, minus few candy bars that they had already eaten prior to. All Ponyboy had gotten around to eating was slices of bread and the candy bars. The blonde slowly moved his hands in between his legs after acknowledging this thought, his skin brushing against the fabric of his jeans. “Not really, no. I don’t…”

The next dose of silence that passed between them was almost terrifying. Johnny would only stare at Ponyboy, causing the younger to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, he nearly wished to laugh. A tiny smile graced his pale face, yet he quickly blew out his cheeks slightly in order to try and suppress the expression. Johnny noticed this immediately. A tiny smirk graced his tan face as he rested an elbow on his leg, his palm open to rest his head against. The tips of his fingers slid into his fluffy hair, his index beginning to twirl strands around it. “Why not?” Johnny pressed on quietly.

“I-It’s kinda gross…” Ponyboy giggled, “and not good for you at all.”

“When was the last time you had bologna?”

Slowly, the smile in which had graced Ponyboy’s face disappeared as though it had never occurred. He stared at the older with a look of incertitude. How come it mattered? He nearly went to question Johnny’s motive towards the inconsequential row of questions, yet instead momentarily clamped his mouth shut as if he knew better than to ask. He shifted slowly once more, his arms retracting from their spot between his legs and up towards the tiny step Johnny sat up on. His elbows dug against the rubble, causing few gray pieces to be pushed aside. “It was, like...the third or fourth grade, or somethin’, I dunno…” Ponyboy practically whispered before he pursed his lips to the side, his teeth biting down onto the inside of his cheek.

Johnny said nothing, instead slowly standing himself up from the step, much to Ponyboy’s confusion. With a quick brush of his hands against his jeans, Johnny retreated from their spot. His steps reverberated throughout the quiet church. “Johnny - where’re you goin’?” Ponyboy questioned, his hand pressing down against the edge of the step. He pushed against it, allowing himself to move away from the resting spot. With trembling legs, the blonde stood himself up, his foot subconsciously kicking at dirt after he was on his feet once more. With hurried movements, he followed after the ravenette who stood across the room with their supplies. “Johnny, what-”

“ _All I have_ , is bologna,” Johnny interrupted as he turned back towards Ponyboy. The two runaways stood rather close to the other, yet a sense of anything uncomfortable failed to be present between them both - until green eyes locked on a piece of the disgusting meat Johnny held in between his pointer finger and thumb. He waved it a little bit in front of the blonde, and he couldn’t help but release a low snort of amusement, no matter how serious he would attempt to be. Ponyboy only continued to stare.

“Why?” Ponyboy hissed out.

Johnny squinted his dark brown eyes, his brows furrowing slightly. “Only bologna.”

“M-Maybe…” Pony forced, his voice cracking slightly as he considered his options. It was evident to him that Johnny was only messing around with him, yet knowing this didn’t change the strange and eerie aura to the way he held and spoke about bologna. “Maybe m’not - maybe i don’ hav’ta eat-”

Only when Johnny shoved the bologna into his mouth did he finally begin to laugh at the exchange of strange behaviour. With a quiet series of ‘yum yum yum’’s from the older, Ponyboy finally doubled over and laughed, the piece of thin meat in his mouth muffling the noise immensely. With a tight grip on the fabric of his unbuttoned plaid shirt, Ponyboy stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet in the dose of hysterics at the humor of the situation. With a stifled wheeze, Ponyboy spat the bologna out of his mouth, earning a high-pitched gasp of absolute shock from Johnny.

“You _wasted the bologna!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> this story was based off this! ( https://mobile.twitter.com/JonnyCruzzz/status/961734126691696640/video/1 ) video from twitter!!


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